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But not all the clutter was my doing. When I got divorced in 2002, after 18 years of marriage, my ex took very little from the house, other than its equity. And when my daughter departed for
college in 2011, never to return, she left behind just about every possession she’d ever acquired, including a giant play kitchen, a complete library of _Nancy Drew _mystery books, American
Girl merchandise equal to a year’s salary, and 11 giant bags of stuffed animals, whom we lovingly refer to as the Boys. All told, it was an out-of-control family landfill, one I knew I
couldn’t just leave for my daughter to deal with (after it all collapsed on me one day and I perished under its weight!). It was time to clean out my house once and for all. I got off to an
excellent start. Old windows went into a neighbor’s dumpster. I made multiple trips to the Salvation Army with boxes of books, ashtrays, knickknacks, coffee mugs and clothes. I even made a
few bucks selling some things on eBay. Other items, such as my mom’s good dishes and my boyhood set of Lionel trains, tugged on my heartstrings and remained in the house, too difficult to
part with. Still, after two years, my decluttering was well on its way. I could walk in my basement without first having to move some boxes to clear a path. There was actual free space on a
few shelves in my attic. Surprisingly, I didn’t miss my blue-and-white-striped, three-piece seersucker suit from 1976. Then it all went wrong. Remember I said I sold some things on eBay?
Well, I also saw some things on eBay. Things I really liked and really wanted. (Need didn’t factor in.) Courtesy John Ficarra A few bids, a few clicks and I was the proud owner of a
one-of-a-kind wood carving with the body of a turkey but the head of Elvis Presley. Astoundingly, I was the only bidder. Then, for a mere $5, I snatched up a wax mold of a dinosaur from the
1964 World’s Fair, identical to the one I’d bought at the fair and played with until its extinction. Courtesy John Ficarra And there was no way I could pass up a folk art oil painting of an
old whaling ship by an artist whose work I admire; an iron arrow, with a great patina, from an 1800s weather vane; and a small ceramic creamer depicting a nun. The milk flows out of the top
of her head. I named her Sister Dairy Creamer. Classic. It didn’t take me long to see the upside — and the downside — of purging. Yes, you suddenly enjoy space and feel freed of the old
stuff’s grip on you, but the thing is, the more you purge, the more room you have for great new stuff. Stuff that, in all likelihood, comes from the homes of other people who are purging
their stuff!